I Hate the Dentist

I HATE the Dentist!  I understand that is a strong statement to make, and yes, I know that no one really likes to go to the dentist, but I have a fear of the dentist that is bordering on the pathological. 

Walking into the dentist office, every muscle in my body starts to tense & my nerves are on edge.  As I sit down I can hear the drill in the next chair over and my whole body manages to get even more wound up in knots, and then I notice that smell, its unique to the operation of a dentist drill, it send shivers up my spine.  Yes, I do realize I sound melodramatic about all of this, but I have good reason to not like the dentist.

Simply put – I have bad teeth.  I have always had bad teeth.  Even as a very young child, my mom took me to the dentist and he informed her that I had more cavities than teeth (apparently Dentists count cavities on each separate section of a tooth).   I have a complete mouthful of fillings, crowns and several root canals.  My dental x-rays look like a dot-to-dot picture.  I could have purchased a car with the amount of money that I have spent on dental work. 

I am one of ‘those people’ that a dentist office doesn’t like to deal with.  I always require extra Novocain.  Honestly, even that darn rinsing & suctioning bother me.  My teeth are just really sensitive (and yes I do use that special sensitive teeth toothpaste). 

There is very little I can do about my bad teeth except to grin and bear it (yes pun intended).  I brush, I floss, and I go to the dreaded dentist for my regular checkups and cleanings.  Unfortunately none of these things really seems to matter when you have a mouthful of bad teeth. 

 

Having bad teeth isn’t all bad.  I have had some very interesting experiences in life because of my bad teeth.  On a middle school field trip, I was given some sticky candy by a very generous students, which I should have declined, but instead I attempted to chew it & out came a crown.  Yup, a bus full of kids and me holding the crown in my pocket. 

Another fun experience with my delicate dental work occurred on a trip to Italy with my Mom.  Yes I said Italy.  There we were outside of Venice, in a lovely restaurant enjoying a fantastic meal when I felt something odd, it was another crown that had decided to fall out.  We had 7 more days of our trip left and I had a crown in my hand – NOT on my tooth where it belonged.  When we made it back to the hotel, I asked the lovely Italian hotel staff where the nearest pharmacy was located.  Luckily they understood enough English to tell me that there was one just down the street.  I walked down to what I think was an Italian drug store and began to look for something that might help.  A very sweet young lady came up to me and I think she asked how she could help me, but I really don’t know that much Italian – so she could have been asking me anything.  I took the offending crown out of my pocket and showed it to her.  She nodded her head and brought me to an aisle with what I could only guess were dental accessories.  She handed me a box and pantomimed me gluing my tooth back in.  I purchased the item, but since it was in Lire I have no idea how much I actually paid for it and I walked back to the hotel room.  I tried to follow the directions, which was challenging since they were in ITALIAN, but luckily there were enough pictures for me to muddle through.  I mixed up the goop, put it inside the crown and stuck it on the waiting stub of a tooth.  I am happy to say – It worked!  To be honest – it worked extremely well and that crown stayed put for many years after. 

I will probably always dislike going to the dentist, but for me it is a necessary evil, I like being able to chew my food.